


trust me (stay and stay)

by CapnShellhead (CapnWinghead)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gunshot Wounds, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mentions of unrequited Steve/Tony, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective Bucky Barnes, injured sam wilson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-24 22:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20022049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapnWinghead/pseuds/CapnShellhead
Summary: When Sam is injured in the field, Bucky doesn't know how to handle it.





	trust me (stay and stay)

**Author's Note:**

> This was somewhat inspired by that arc in Brubaker's Bucky!Cap run when Sam was injured and Bucky didn't handle it well. 
> 
> Title from Sharon Von Etten's "I Don't Want to Let You Down."

The ER doors burst open as Bucky rushed into the room, calling out orders.

“I need some help over here!” Sam lay unconscious in his arms, his suit torn and bloodied, the scent familiar and yet it turned Bucky’s stomach all the same. “Please! I need some help!”

A doctor and a few nurses rushed over with a gurney. Even knowing Sam needed medical attention, Bucky found it near impossible to let him go. He laid him down gently, touching Sam’s cheek briefly before he pulled himself away. 

“What happened?” the doctor asked, pulling her stethoscope from her neck as the nurses started pulling Sam into a room. 

“Gunshot to the chest,” Bucky reeled off, trying to keep his mind from reeling. “Knife wound to the left hip and thigh. I think – I think he might have a few cracked ribs. I wasn’t,” he ran a hand over his face, his chest tightening. “I wasn’t there. He, uh, he needed me and I wasn’t there.” He looked to her beseechingly, his eyes warm as she set about checking Sam’s vitals. 

One of the nurses returned with a pair of scissors and started cutting Sam out of his suit. As more bruised and mottled skin came into view, Bucky felt bile rise in his throat. Sam’s torso was covered in dark welts, a few gashes and burns but they were nothing compared to the large gaping wound in his side. Once the Kevlar was removed, it stared bleeding profusely, the monitors going haywire as the nurses rushed to stop the bleeding. 

The doctor examined it, her brow furrowed. “We need to get him into surgery. I can’t feel an exit wound.” The cowl came off and she touched his temples, a nurse flashing a penlight over his pupils. “Pupils are responsive to light but there’s no telling if there were any head injuries. I’m guessing it’s likely. How long has he been unconscious?”

A hand waved in front of Bucky’s face, startling him out his reverie, looking to male nurse in front of him. “How long has he been unconscious, sir?”

“Um, I don’t know. Twenty minutes or so. It took a while to get a ride here.” He covered his mouth, watching as they draped Sam in a gown and started rushing him down the hall towards the elevator. “I – can I go with him?” he asked, pushing forward. “Take good care of him!” he called out, watching them disappear into the elevator. 

“Sir, sir, you have to stay here,” the man said. At Bucky’s wide eyes, he tried for a calming smile. “They have to take him into surgery and once he’s out, he’ll be taken to a room. You can visit him there.”

Bucky nodded mutedly, running a hand through his hair before he remembered they were covered in Sam’s blood. He took a few staggering steps forward, slamming his hand into the wall. “What can I do?” he asked. 

“The best way you can help him now is to help us by telling us everything you know. His blood type, his medical history, any allergies. Things like that. Okay?”

Bucky nodded, following the nurse back to the nurse’s station. 

+

Bucky sat in the small chair in the corner, his thumb turning the ring on his ring finger. 

He felt a bit guilty about posing as Sam’s husband, but they wouldn’t let him back here unless he was part of Sam’s family. Try as he might to focus on the world outside the window, the nurses gossiping outside, the stack of magazines on the table, his gaze kept finding its way back to Sam. 

_Well, he’s alive,_ Bucky thought. _That’s something_. 

Sam still hadn’t woken up. He was lying on the bed beneath the crisp white sheets and blankets, his left arm wrapped in a sling. Three cracked ribs, two bullet wounds, a knife wound to his upper left thigh and minor burns across his stomach and chest. He’d survived. The doctors were waiting to see how he recovered before going in to remove one of the bullets. Sam was a ‘lucky guy’ the surgeon had said. 

Bucky wanted to put his head through a wall. 

How lucky was Sam if he was lying here right now? How lucky was he that he went to stop a hostage situation and was ambushed by a Hydra cell? How lucky was he that he was saddled with Bucky for a partner? How lucky was he that Bucky had arrived too late to do more than clear a path outside and take Sam to the hospital? 

Sam wasn’t lucky at all. 

Bucky covered his face with a curse, his shoulders shaking. It was dark here, the blinds drawn. Bucky had no idea what time it was. When they’d arrived, it had still been light out. Sam had been in surgery for a few hours. For all he knew, a day could have passed. He hadn’t left the hospital. He’d simply borrowed a pair of scrubs from a friendly nurse and showered in the locker room. 

Now, he leaned back in his chair and watched Sam sleep, the quiet steady beep of the machine confirming what Bucky found hard to believe: Sam was alive. He was still here. Breathing, his heart beating, warm and alive – despite Bucky’s failure to protect him. 

He didn’t know what he would do if he lost Sam. In all the chaos that was coming in from the cold, finding himself in a time he didn’t understand, trying to find his place in the world again, trying to be his own man again – in all of that, Sam was the only thing that made sense. He was blunt, straight forward and honest and he didn’t look at Bucky like he was seeing the man Bucky used to be. He’d only ever looked at Bucky as he was. He was strong and kind and funny and dependable and everything Bucky hadn’t deserved when he’d wanted nothing more than to disappear. 

With Sam, Bucky felt like a person again. Like it didn’t’ matter that he wasn’t that same kid from Brooklyn that Steve wanted him to be. Like his past didn’t define him. That he could suit up and go protect the city from a few bad guys and it would actually make a difference. Sam didn’t need Bucky, but Bucky needed Sam. 

Living with him, fighting over the chores and what to get for dinner that night, bickering in the field – Bucky had never been happier. His days were filled with little things like Sam making him blueberry pancakes ‘just because’, tossing dishtowels at him when it was his turn to wash dishes and complaining that he never got to decide what take out they chose knowing full and well he’d picked every night the past two weeks. His nights were spent sitting on the porch swing outside with a beer in hand talking about everything and nothing. With Sam’s head on his shoulder when he fell asleep despite insisting that he was just ‘resting his eyes’. When he slept, he dreamed of having days like these for the rest of his life. 

Bucky had a life here, with Sam. And he’d almost lost it. 

“Mr. Barnes?” a quiet voice asked. Bucky looked up, wiping at his eyes. A small nurse stood before him, a nervous question in her eyes. “The doctor just wanted us to check in and see if you needed anything?”

“No,” Bucky rasped, trying for a smile. It clearly didn’t work and her brow furrowed in concern. “I’m fine, honest. I’m just tired.”

“If you’d like, there’s a hotel just across the street.”

“I’m fine here, thanks.” His eyes fell to Sam. “I want to be here when he wakes up.”

She nodded, wringing her hands together. “They think your husband could wake up at any moment,” she offered.

Bucky nodded, taking Sam’s hand. His thumb traced over the back of it slowly. “Thank you.” Bucky stood on shaky legs. He looked to her, “Do you have a place to pray?”

+

Bucky wasn’t sure how long he sat there before he felt someone sit down next to him.

“Didn’t know you prayed.”

“I don’t.”

“He’s going to be fine, Buck.” 

Bucky studied to stained glass before them, his hands clasped together. “I almost lost him, Steve,” he replied, a tear rolling down his cheek. “I look at him lying there in that bed and I’m just… I’m so angry. At myself, at that idiot with the gun, at you.” He wiped at his face. “I’m so damn angry with you for giving him the shield to begin with.”

“Did you want it?” Steve asked plainly. 

“No.”

“Did he want it?” Bucky nodded. “I saw the way he used to look at it,” Steve said with a smile. “He understands what it stands for.”

“He doesn’t’ need a shield to be a hero.”

“I know that. He knows that. When I gave it to him, I picked the best man for the job.” He laughed softly, adding, “Of course, I didn’t know he had an overprotective boyfriend that would give me grief for it.”

Bucky’s face warmed, “I’m not—”

“I know.” He studied the pews before them. Then, “But you want to be.”

It was quiet. Bucky nodded once.

Steve seemed to sense his hesitation, adding, “It’s fine. I knew. Although, it’s kind of ironic.” Bucky looked to him in question. “When we were growing up, everyone always thought I would be the one to… dance at the other end of the ballroom,” he explained with a teasing grin.

“Right, and you never had feelings for Stark, huh?”

Steve bumped his shoulder gently, earning a quiet laugh. Blue eyes studied the strained glass once more as Steve spoke, “I fell in love twice in my life. The first, I lost because I ran out of time. Don’t make the same mistake I did, Buck. Tell him now. While you still can. Maybe he’s just crazy enough to love you back.”

He stood carefully, sliding out into the aisle. “You need some help, old man?”

Steve waved him off, “Shut up.” 

As he neared the doors, Bucky heard himself ask, “I know about Carter but, what happened to the second? The one that got away?”

Steve’s eyes grew soft and tender. “He got married.” 

+

When Sam woke up, it was raining outside. 

He shifted beneath the covers with a quiet groan, waking Bucky from his light sleep in the chair at his bedside. His eyes opening slowly, taking in the room in confusion. His voice was rough from disuse, “Where are we?”

“Hospital downtown,” Bucky answered sitting up. He ran his fingers through his hair, in vain efforts to straighten it somewhat. “You were hurt pretty bad, Sam.”

Sam’s brow furrowed in concern, “Are you okay?”

Bucky blinked at him blankly, leaning forward. “What?”

“Are you okay? Were you hurt?”

“Sam,” Bucky began, at a loss for words. He stood up, moving in closer. “I’m fine. You took down fifteen Hydra soldiers with guns. Alone.”

“I did?” Bucky nodded. Sam thought this over, smiling a bit. “That’s pretty bad ass.”

“You almost died, man.” Bucky took his hand, averting his gaze as his eyes warmed. “I almost lost you.”

Sam squeezed his hand, nowhere near as strong as his grip usually was. “But I’m here. I’m fine. You’re okay. I’d count this as a win.”

Bucky shook his head, chest tightening as he studied their hands. “I wasn’t there for you.” He looked up, holding Sam’s gaze. “You needed me and I wasn’t there. When I found you, all I could think was ‘what if this is it’?”

“Buck—”

“I thought it was just as well because I didn’t deserve anything good in my life anyway. After what I did.” He swallowed, his eyes spilling over. “But I’ve been sitting here for the past two days and all I could think about was how little you deserved being saddled with someone like me.” 

He wiped at his face angrily. “You’re all I have, Sam. I know Steve’s out there but you’re the only one that really knows me. Just the thought of going back to that house without you… I couldn’t do it, man.” He took in a shuddering breath. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

Sam gazed up at him, studying him quietly. “Well, that’s pretty heavy.” Bucky laughed, earning a soft smile. Sam squeezed his hand tighter. “Whatever you’ve been talking yourself into the past two days, don’t. Whatever it is.”

“You don’t even know what I—”

“I wasn’t here for you to run it by me, so I’m pretty sure it’s a terrible idea.” Bucky laughed, shaking his head fondly. “You come up with _the worst_ ideas without me. We can all admit that.”

“Yours aren’t all gems, you know?”

“Oh, I know. But they’re better than yours. Like, on average,” he replied, smiling tiredly. He rested his cheek on the pillows, gazing up at Bucky. “This gig comes with some pretty shitty perks. Hospital stays, gunshot wounds, long hours and no vacation time. We knew that going into it.”

“I know, but,” Bucky ran a hand through his hair with a sigh, pulling up his chair. He sat down, levelling with Sam. “I don’t have to like it. I hate seeing you like this.”

“Time was running out and I had to do something. They had hostages.”

“I know.” He studied their hands, thumbing over the matching band on Sam’s finger. “I know you did the right thing. You’re annoying that way.”

“Love you, too,” Sam said with a grin. He followed Bucky’s gaze, frowning at the silver band. “Did we get married? Did I lose more than a few days?”

Bucky’s cheeks warmed. “I, uh, had to tell a white lie to get in here after hours. They would only let immediate family in.”

Sam nodded, relaxing. His eyes closed as he asked, “Do you think we can register for wedding gifts? We need a new coffee maker.”

“What we have is fine.”

“It hardly ever works and it shocked me last week.” He smiled, opening one eye as he added, “I want one of those fancy espresso makers.”

“You don’t need a five-hundred-dollar gizmo to make a decent cup of coffee.”

“I know that. But I want one.” His eyes opened with a teasing grin. “Pretty please. C’mon, spoil your husband.”

Bucky smiled despite himself, resting his elbows on the bed as he held Sam’s gaze. “I already spoil you enough as it is.”

Sam’s grin softened as he reached up to touch Bucky’s chin. He gripped it gently, murmuring, “C’mere.” Bucky complied, heart in his mouth as he leaned in closer. Inches away from Sam’s mouth, Sam whispered, “You were thinking about leaving, weren’t you?”

Bucky’s eyes widened, nodding absently as Sam stared up at him. 

“I thought so. Bucky, this isn’t the first time I’ve gotten hurt and it certainly won’t be the last. You can’t protect me from everything.” His hand spread out, cupping Bucky’s cheek. His thumb traced over the curve softly as he spoke. “You just have to trust that, when I’m out there, I’m doing everything I can to come back to you.”

Bucky’s heart beat faster, running his tongue over his lips as he tried to ascertain if he was misreading this situation. As Sam’s thumb traced over his lips, he was almost certain. Sam’s long lashes fluttered as his eyes fell shut. Bucky wasn’t sure who moved first, but then their lips were touching. Softly, gently at first, then firmer as Sam stroked his cheek and opened for him rather easily. 

Seamless, simple and sure.

When they pulled apart, Bucky rested his forehead against Sam’s, breathing him in. “That’s all I can ask for.” He covered Sam’s hand with his own. “Just keep coming back to me.”


End file.
